


I Sold My Soul to a Three Piece

by ixxues



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF, Shiphaus
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cocaine, Drugs, FakeHaus, GTA AU, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Prostitution, Slut Shaming, Violence, Weed, post crew breakup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-15
Updated: 2016-02-15
Packaged: 2018-05-20 17:19:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6018235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ixxues/pseuds/ixxues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the crew breaks up, not everyone gets a happy ending. Until they do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Sold My Soul to a Three Piece

**Author's Note:**

> oldmachaywood.tumblr.com  
> repost

“Los Santos is prettier at night,” Adam mused, admiring the way the hazy fog in the air made the streetlights look erie and the neon signs glow brighter. He was walking home from a meeting with some unsavory characters, through one of the rougher parts of town, some back road he hadn’t been down since the Crew broke up.

Oh god the Crew. Just thinking about them made his chest hurt. He never wanted the split to happen. Actually, Adam would bet all his money that none of them did. But it was for the best, in the long run. After the boys had all been caught and held hostage for information or money one too many times, it was decided that if they cared anything at all about each other, they needed to split. Their friendship (it was love, if Adam was honest with himself. At least that’s what it was for him) was a liability and they couldn’t stand seeing each other hurt anymore. So they went their separate ways. Being the unofficial leader, it had been his call to make. A year and a half later and that was still the hardest decision he’s made in his 29 years.

Adam had invested most of his money over the years so he was still living the high life in a penthouse apartment near the Hills. He consorted with businessmen and toppled empires when he wanted to, but mostly he sat around in sweatpants with his cats.

Bruce opened up a bakery that doubled as a drug dealing den. Adam walked by it sometimes, just to smell the fresh bread, out of view of the window, making sure it was still doing good. He never went in. Couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Seeing Bruce would probably break him down.

Lawrence had become a freelance hacker. They worked together sometimes; never directly communicating but there have been plenty of cases where they’ve been on the same job. Adam always fought the urge to get in touch. It would be so easy… but like with Bruce, he couldn’t do that to either of them, and apparently Lawrence felt the same way.

James had become a street racer. Adam heard praise of his wins through his network and occasionally the bright blue eyes would light up his TV or computer screen and Adam’s lips would curl up in a smile to match the blond’s. He was glad James found something good for himself.

Peake was still doing jobs, that much Adam knew. He didn’t know who he was working with, if anyone, but there was always whispers in the underground of a man in the shadows who should never be crossed, lest your body be found mutilated in the river days later. The bodies all had the same mark carved into their chests. An upwards arrow. Like a triangle without the bottom piece. He knew what it meant. They knew what it meant.

Spoole and Joel were a mystery; Adam never found out what happened to them. They were always outwardly closer than the others, he knew they left together. He knew that the split was hardest on them, his angels who wore their hearts on their sleeves. Last he heard about them was months ago and it was a throwaway comment from a homeless man that Adam had helped out in exchange for underground information.

“The Ruvic (“Rubin” “Whateva”) boy and that hat kid are skippin’ town soon as they got the money.”

“Anything else?”

“Nah you pay me to know what’s goin’ on with the low lifes. I don’t keep tabs on those air headed pretty boys.”

(If Adam’s jaw clenched at the insult, the man didn’t notice)

~~

When he finally snapped out of reverie, he realized he was on the path to one of the old Fakehaus safe houses, not towards his own home. He stood for a minute, soaking up the rare silence and nostalgia before turning around and walking in the right direction.

He ended up on a corner lot where sex workers would wait for clients. A few flashed their wares and promised more but Adam wasn’t interested. Not in anyone, not anymore.

He could hear yelling from the back of the lot, from the shadows of an alley, but it didn’t concern him. Probably some pimp beating up a guy for not paying. After waiting for the light to turn green (not like he had anything better to do with his time) he started on his way again.

He took only a step before the yelling suddenly caught his attention.

“I DON’T FUCKING CARE, RUBIN. YOU’RE MINE. THAT LITTLE TWINK YOU HANG OUT WITH IS MINE. AND YOU FUCKING OWE ME MONEY, YOU WORTHLESS WHORE”

Rubin. Fuck, how common of a name was Rubin? It couldn’t be Joel. Couldn’t be… why would he be a hooker now? Maybe he didn’t even say Rubin. The twink though… what if that was Spoole…shit.

He made his way back towards the yelling. He had to know. He had to check if it was his boys. Pushing aside anyone who tried to get in his pants, eyes only for the small group of men where the fight continued, he picked up his pace. Getting closer he could hear “Rubin” responding.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’m sorry, I just needed a little bit more to cover the rent. I’ll pay you back, I swear!”

Definitely Joel. That was his Joel. His angel. And this piece of shit pimp on a power trip was starving him.

“RENT? YOU THINK I’M GOING TO BELIEVE THAT? I KNOW YOU SPENT IT ON COKE! AND YOUR PUSSY BOYFRIEND NEEDED MORE WEED, DIDN’T HE? DON’T FUCKING LIE TO ME, RUBIN”

The sound of skin on skin rang out through the night. Adam froze, shocked at what was going on. He knew he had to get to them, had to help them, but with the same sick fascination of watching a car crash, he listened. He tried to validate that he was stopping to make a plan, since he could see bodyguards, but it wasn’t. He was just disgustingly fascinated with watching this play out.

“F-fuck I’m s-sorry. Please. Kick me out, fine, but Sean didn’t do anything. It was me, don’t hurt him.”

Adam could see the pimp from here. And he could see, with a sick churning of his gut, that the pimp was smiling, voice lowering to a violent softness.

“Kick you out? You’re too good at what you do, slut. Unfortunately, I need you. The other faggot can stay, too. There’s a market for those shy ones. But you will owe me. You’ll wish you had never cheated me, you fucking coke whore. In fact… maybe I’ll make you my own personal fuck boy. I’ll carve my name into chest so everyone knows who you belong to. You’ll leave me when you’re dead.”

That’s when Adam lost it. Joel was his. Spoole was his. Not this fucker’s.

He tore into a sprint, knife already out and launched himself at the pimp. The piece of shit had his throat slit before his body guards could even react. Adam didn’t remember killing them but when the red cleared from his eyes, they were both on the ground, holes in their chests and choking on their own blood.

After finally regaining his self control, he turned around, only to be greeted by the most upsetting and pitiful sight he could have imagined.

Joel was skinny. Skinnier. Too skinny. He was covered in bruises and some cuts. The spot where the pimp hit him was already swelling up and his eyes were puffy from crying. Spoole wasn’t much better; cowering behind Joel, also crying, also malnourished, also covered in bruises. Both of them looked so shocked and out of it, Adam wanted to cry along with them.

The three men stared at each other for what felt like hours until finally Spoole broke the silence.

“A-adam? Is that really you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, baby, I’m here. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you anymore.” Adam spoke gently, not wanting to scare the beaten boys; fighting the urge to rush forward and hug them both. He could see clear signs of abuse on their faces and he didn’t want to scare them off.

Spoole beat him to it. He pushed past Joel, who was still staring at Adam like a deer in headlights, and fell into Adam’s arms and started crying.

“Shh..shh… I’ve got you, baby, you’re ok, you’re safe,” Adam whispered into Sean’s hair. He never took his eyes off of Joel though, worried that the other man was angry at him or was going into shock.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he lifted one hand off Spoole’s back and held it out to Joel. An offering to come join the hug. An offering which Joel took almost immediately.

Adam lost track of how long they stood there. He only dared to move once both boys had cried themselves dry, shooting dirty looks over their heads at anyone that dared come close. Once the crying stopped, he gently moved back, never breaking contact with either boy, and whispered,

“Let’s get you two home, yeah?”

~~~

Walking home took longer than Adam would have liked. Both boys were limping, Spoole favoring his left side and Joel leaning heavily on Adam. But they made it home without an incident and Adam set to cleaning the two up. He carefully cleaned every cut, stitched up what turned out to be a small gash in Spoole’s side that hadn’t been tended to properly, and iced their bruises. He let them shower without him, figuring they needed time to breathe, and set to cooking something nutritious for them to eat.

Dinner was almost ready when Adam heard quiet shuffling in the hallway. Joel and Spoole turned into the kitchen, drowning in Adam’s sweatpants and hoodies with fuzzy socks on their feet. They looked better already, hair and faces clean of dirt and blood. Worn out as all hell but it was a good start.

Adam quietly fixed them plates of food and glasses of juice and set them in front of him, softly humming a song he couldn’t place, just so the air didn’t feel so heavy. He watched them eat, refilling glasses and getting Spoole more food when he ran out. He didn’t comment that Joel barely ate, they could talk about that later.

Once both boys were filled and content with their eyes falling shut, Adam gathered them up and took them to his room. His plan was to leave them alone and sleep in the guest room. He assumed that they might resent him for splitting the crew or that they had been in bed with too many strange men (he was counting himself as a stranger after this long) to want him there. This plan was shot down by Joel, who in a sluggish movement, grabbed at Adam’s arm and dragged him down onto the bed.

Adam laid there looking at them long after they were both asleep. He hummed that song again whenever one of them made a face or jerked in their sleep, effectively calming them down. After a few hours he realized what song it was. It was their song. The Crew’s anthem. And then he cried.

He cried for the first time since before the crew broke up. The night had been too long and too hard and his resolve finally broke.

He fell asleep at 4am with his nose buried in Joel’s curls and his hand wrapped tightly in with Spoole’s.

~~

The next few days went about as well as expected. Joel and Spoole both flinched whenever Adam accidentally let a door shut too loud. He found out that the pimp wasn’t wrong about Joel’s apparent cocaine addiction. (not that they all didn’t do drugs but man, Joel’s addiction had gotten real bad) But they ate more and more and slowly their cheeks filled out again, their stomachs weren’t as concave and the light returned to their eyes.

He tried to let them get more settled before he asked what had happened to them, but apparently he didn’t have to. The third night they were home (because they “live here now. No buts, you guys are staying as long as you need and want; forever if that’s what it is”), Spoole smoked a couple joints and Joel did a few lines and they were all warm and comfy. Joel on the couch with a cat in his lap and Spoole on the floor between his legs, a slim hand in his hair and a different cat in his. And Adam, a respectful distance away in the plush armchair he used for reading and naps. Joel had been staring off into space, admiring a painting Adam had, when the story suddenly burst out of him.

“After the Crew split we went out and got freelance jobs. Me, a planner, and Spoole an assassin,” Joel started, without even a warning that he was going to tell a story. “We were good for a couple months until we made the wrong guy mad. We were ruined overnight. He took our money, our stuff… anything we didn’t have on hand when the landlord kicked us out.”

“He was paid off,” Spoole piped in, voice thick from smoke. “We were good on rent. I swear,” he was looking at Adam almost pleadingly, like he expected him not to believe.

“Of course. I know you were, baby,” Adam soothed and Spoole relaxed and leaned back against Joel’s hand.

“Yeah… anyway we managed to make another couple weeks before he came to us. Lance. He offered us money in exchange for working in his little harem. It was good at first. He gave us the right amount of money. We stayed in his house with the rest of the employees. All the drugs we could want. It was decent. Then he started making our pay smaller. And smaller… we finally moved out. Not a smart move but we were trying to get away. Obviously, he knew that. Our cuts kept getting smaller and smaller and we were given the more… difficult clients. We kept trying to skip town but Lance always found out. Our transportation was always found less than a block away, burnt out or totaled. He was never going to let us leave.”

Adam could see that Joel was getting worked up and anxious retelling their tale, so he made what he considered a bold move and moved to the couch and gently placed an arm around Joel’s shoulder and pressed his leg against Spoole’s thigh.

“You’re ok now, angel. He’s dead, he can never hurt you again. No one will ever hurt you again as long as I’m alive.”

After a few long minutes of quiet murmurings from Adam, and soft snores from Spoole who had fallen asleep against Adam’s knee, Joel got a hold of himself, took a deep breath, and started again, eyes never leaving the hand that was threaded in Spoole’s hair.

“He wasn’t lying about me being a coke whore but that’s not why I cheated him out of money. It really was for rent. And food. We hadn’t eaten in a couple days. I just wanted enough to get Spoole something, at least. He had worse clients than I did. He deserved it more than me, I’m the one that got us into this mess.”

“Joel.. I do have to ask. Why didn’t you call me? Or Lawrence or Bruce? Any one of us would’ve helped you.”

“I, uh. We talked about it. It went through stages. We didn’t want to bother you. Then, we decided you wouldn’t care enough to help, and then, it became too late. We didn’t think there was any hope, even if you would help.”

Adam subtly brushed some tears away; he was sure Joel noticed but was glad the smaller man didn’t comment.

“Joel, angel, of course we would’ve helped. But let’s not think about that, ok? Focus on the fact that you’re here and both of you are safe.”

“Yeah… yeah, ok, Kovic,” Joel mumbled, face now pressed against Adam’s shoulder. Adam could tell he was quickly falling asleep.

He managed to get an unconscious Spoole and a half conscious Joel back into the bedroom, and with promises that he’d return in a few minutes, he made his way back into the living room to get his phone.

He sent 4 texts. All saying the exact same thing: his address, a time set for the next morning, and a code that only the 7 of them knew. It was their emergency code, one that he wished Joel or Spoole would have sent earlier, but he tried not to dwell on that. The code was one of two that they would take to their grave, so that no one could ever trick the others into a walking into a trap. He used the one to call for a nonemergency meet up; no one was dying or hurt, he just wanted to talk. He shut his phone and went back to the bedroom, content with knowing that the others would show up tomorrow morning.

He woke up the two sleeping masses next to him a little earlier than they would have normally but he wanted them to be awake and aware so as not to get startled by 4 other men walking into the house.

They filed in one after the other, each knocking only a couple minutes after the last. James was first. Tanned skin and a soft smile greeted Adam at the door.

Bruce followed close behind filling the air with the smell of bread, a fresh loaf tucked under his jacket. 

Then Lawrence, his serious demeanor letting Adam know that even though he sent the nonemergency call, Lawrence had probably worried all night. 

Peake was last, quietly walking straight to Adam and hugging him tightly. (and Adam hugged back just as hard)

Breakfast started out awkward and silent but by the time the bread was gone, they were all laughing and joking, recounting stories and hugging, as if the last year and a half hadn’t happened. As if they had never been apart. Adam was secretly happy to find that, like him, none of the others could keep a relationship (if they even tried).

Watching his boys laugh together made Adam’s heart swell with joy. He kept a close eye on Joel and Spoole, watching for any panic, as they gave the short version of what happened when it was their turn to tell. The other boys were somber and quiet but just as accepting as Adam had been.

“They had been taken advantage of, it hadn’t been their fault” was repeated throughout the tale and Joel and Spoole softly smiled at them, thankful to have such judgeless friends.

They spent the day in the penthouse, catching up and playing video games. Their relationship was exactly how they left it and none of them could be happier. By dinner it was clear that they had to address the elephant in the room. Lawrence, always one for communication, brought it up after the food was served. By the time dessert was cleared away they had reached a unanimous decision. They had been too small to be making the ruckus they had been but now, with the networks and talents they had all created on their own, they could try again. They could be a crew again, bigger and better than ever.

And they were.


End file.
